


The Boss 9

by LanceTheFuckerTucker



Series: The Boss [9]
Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 70's Bucky strip club AU, F/M, Shit Hits The Fan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:37:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9705590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanceTheFuckerTucker/pseuds/LanceTheFuckerTucker
Summary: You and Bucky arrive back home to find Legs in disarray after Tony Stark's massacre. Bucky Barnes has nothing left except you.





	

You raced the sunrise back home, barely saying a word to each other. The flight home was spent in contemptuous silence too. Bucky’s mustang roared dangerously down the highway as you quietly seethed next to him. The only thing you heard was the cassette of David Bowie’s ‘Diamond Dogs’ playing on the stereo.

Neither of you had the energy to address last night.

Sifting through your memory of last night, you weren’t sure whether Bucky had engineered the incident at the brothel; there was nothing to suggest that he hadn’t, and plenty to suggest that he had. But he did kill again for you. Multiple times over. A right thinking person wouldn’t do that for just anyone. But then, Bucky probably wasn’t a right thinking person. You weren’t sure how you felt about another two men dying by Bucky’s hand as he fought to protect you. And you weren’t sure of Bucky’s declaration that you in your anger rubbished in an instant. You wondered if you would regret your reaction.

Bucky’s pride was hurt. Not only that, but he was filled with dread. Stevie sounded uncharacteristically worried on the phone. Stevie didn’t offer specifics during his brief phone call, but Bucky was sure that plenty of his family’s blood had been spilled at Legs when Stark’s men came knocking yesterday afternoon.

You neared the outskirts of the city in good time. An orange glow was still rising over the lot outside Angie’s apartment.  Her neighbours - men in suits and women clinging to the hands of small school children - were bustling out of their homes, ready to face the day. 

The car screeched to a halt. Bucky got out first.

He popped the trunk and took out your suitcase, making for the wooden steps. 

 _“I can get that, Bucky, you go off to the club_ ,” you offered.

Bucky shook his head and waited for you to climb the steps. “ _It’s ok, kiddo._ ”

You were glad to have arrived at your temporary home as you plucked your key from your pocket with a sigh. You slipped it into the lock. It wouldn’t fit. In your absence, Angie must have changed the locks, leaving you homeless again. This time, you were totally alone.

But you wouldn’t be if you took Bucky up on the offer he made you before your trip to Paris. You turned to him.

His eyes traveled from the ground to yours. They were bloodshot and weighed down by dark purple shadows. But there was empathy there. He nodded as if he understood exactly what you were silently asking of him. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “ _We’ll sort this out later, kiddo. We’ll stop by the club first, see what the damage is._ ”

* * *

The car came to a halt in the alleyway outside Legs. The heavens had opened on your way across the city, making the streets resemble a graveyard. The club’s iconic pink neon sign, the first thing you saw when you approached the club for the very first time, had been shot out and the front door, now unguarded, was scarred with bullet holes. Bucky groaned, bowing his head. He was unsure of what he might discover once he entered his pride and joy. But he was certain it wasn’t going to be good. You looked at each other and left the car. 

It wasn’t good. The lights were out, making your path a treacherous one. Shattered glass carpeted the floor. If you weren’t dodging that, you were avoiding the slick streaks of blood. The bar was completely empty. You expected to see people, even if they were dead. But not even Luis was there. You wondered if he made it out alive. 

Bucky held your hand as you made your way through the baron wasteland of Bucky’s livelihood. His hands were cold and soaked in sweat. “ _What the hell?_ ” he whispered, surveying the damage. “ _Stevie? You here?_ ” he called out into the void.

His pace was quick as he emerged from the dark corridor.  He stopped at the opposite side of the bar. Stevie’s face was stoic. “ _Bucky._ ” It wasn’t a question. Simply an acknowledgement. 

“ _Are you ok, man?_ ” Bucky asked.

Stevie folded his arms. “ _Yeah._ ”

Bucky looked around at all the blood stains, smeared over almost every surface. There was no point in beating around the bush. “ _How many dead?_ ” 

“ _Barton. Some of the dancers. Nat’s gone, thank god. Peg and Luis are safe. I’m not sure about the rest. Stark’s guys took Sam. He’s probably in a ditch somewhere by now,_ ” Stevie sighed, buying him time before he was forced to relay the real news. 

Bucky looked utterly dejected. “ _Goddamnit._ ”

“ _You might wanna sit down for this, Buck,_ ” Stevie warned, ducking around the bar and pouring him a whisky.

Bucky raised his eyebrows and backed himself up on to a stool. “ _What the hell’s going on?_ ”

“ _It’s your mom…_ ”

Bucky’s face fell. “ _Stevie? What about my mom?_ ”

“ _Yesterday, she came to visit the club…_ ”

“ _You forgot to check in on her, didn’t you?_ ”

“ _Buck…_ ”

Bucky smashed the glass against the counter. “ _Goddamnit Stevie, what the fuck did I tell you? You’ll fuckin’ pay for this._ ”

“ _Well I’d consider us even,_ ” Stevie snarked.

“ _What the fuck did you just say?_ ”

You could feel the anger radiate from Bucky.

“ _Stark told us all why he’s really after you,_ ” Stevie hissed, turning his attention to you. “ _You wanna know who your boss really gives a damn about? Himself. We’re all paying the price for the shit he’s gone and done._ ”

Bucky stared at the broken glass, unable to meet anyone’s gaze. 

“ _What does he mean, Bucky?_ ” you asked. Your faith in him was already wearing thin. You were gearing yourself up for the kicker.

“ _Oh, you mean you haven’t told your new girlfriend? All those political assassinations you’ve been on the run from?_ ” Stevie sneered.

“ _Shut up, Stevie. It was a long time ago. I didn’t have a choice. I don’t do that anymore,_ ” Bucky muttered, clenching his fist on the counter. He didn’t care if the shards of glass drew blood.

“ _James Buchanan Barnes, in his youth, assassinated Mayor Stark and his wife… Among other notable public figures,_ ” Stevie elaborated.

It was one of the most shocking events of your lifetime. You remembered it saturating headlines for months as the authorities tried to find the murderer. You felt sick knowing that the man you had grown somewhat attached to was behind such an abhorrent crime - and had escaped justice for nearly a decade. You felt like your body was being starved of oxygen. You ran out into the alleyway.

Bucky followed. You heard him hot on your heels.

“ _Why did you keep this from me all this time? Just how many people have you killed, Bucky? Why did you do it?_ ” you quizzed frantically, turning to face him. You weren’t angry. Just disappointed. Maybe even heartbroken.

Tears were trickling down Bucky’s cheeks. He looked like a  trapped and wounded animal. He had realised that the world he had built for himself, to keep himself safe, had just come crashing down. His past had cost him almost everyone he had grown to hold dear. “ _Because you’d never have loved me back if you knew,_ ” he spluttered, “ _I’m a fuckin’ monster and now everyone’s dead because of me. You’re all I have left._ ”

“ _All you have left for Stark to kill, more like,_ ” you said.

Bucky shook his head. “ _I said I’d protect you. All I’ve ever done is protect you._ ”

In a roundabout way, you knew Bucky was right. And you knew it’d only be a matter of time before Stark came after you to get to Bucky. The net was closing in. It was in your best interests to stay close to Bucky. He was all you had left too. Even if you didn’t completely trust him.

You chose, in that moment, to believe that he was different with you.

You walked over to Bucky and smoothed damp strands of hair out of his eyes. “ _We should get home._ ”

You saw hope in his eyes.

He nodded, opening the passenger side door for you.

* * *

If you hadn’t already felt sorry for Bucky, his apartment sure did the trick. It was exactly as you had imagined; upmarket and dripping with class. It was also cold, sterile and lonely. But more than that, there were pictures of Bucky’s mother everywhere you looked. It was abundantly clear that she was the first love of his life. It was clear just how much Bucky had lost.

Bucky only managed a few paces into his hallway before he broke down. He caught a glimpse of a photo of him and his mother on his fifteenth birthday. The year his life became a living hell.

You weren’t sure how to approach the sudden role reversal in your relationship. You were never great at comforting people. You could never find the words. So you did the only thing you could do. You hugged him.

He clung on to you for dear life, sobbing his heart out and begging you not to leave. You promised to stay until the very end.

For the rest of that day, and well into the night, you slept intertwined on one of the grand chesterfield sofas in Bucky’s living room. You didn’t eat. Or talk. You stuck around because Bucky needed you.

* * *

 

Tuesday morning dawned. 

You sat, perched on the sofa by the window. If offered you a striking view of the city below. Still asleep, trapped under a blood red sky. You were pondering Bucky’s next move. 

His next move was always behind a gun.

But it wasn’t going to work for him this time. You didn’t know how much man power Stark had left after the obvious massacre at the club. However, you were certain that if Bucky went after Stark alone, it would be a guaranteed suicide mission. 

You caught Bucky’s reflection in the window as he stirred for the first time since yesterday evening. He still wore the dark jeans and light denim jacket he donned on the flight back from Paris. His hair was still slicked back from when you spent hours stroking it, trying to soothe him to sleep. Even in his sleep, his expression was pained. He looked vulnerable. 

You had to bring Bucky and Stevie back together. You had to come up with a plan. You had to be brave, even if you felt terrified.

Tony Stark had to die.

**Author's Note:**

> Three more parts to go! Thanks for reading!


End file.
